


look at these lungs (on hiatus)

by konohano



Series: this is not a normal situation, guys. [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Cigarettes, Iwaizumi is part dragon, M/M, Magic, Smoking, almost a coffee shop au, but i don't think this is going to be a huge fic lol, mattsun and makki are losers, oh god here we go, probably drinking too idek but its noting bad, read the note please for more explanation bc i dont wanna talk in the tags lol, the title will make sense eventually lol, theres uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konohano/pseuds/konohano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Iwa-chan!" Tooru gasped. His new friend (?) turned around, eyebrows raised slightly. </p><p>He removed the cigarette from his mouth, blowing smoke into the air away from Tooru. "Oikawa, I told you to drop the nickname."</p><p>Baffled, Tooru tried to find the right words to convey how appalled he felt. "What are you--? What?"</p><p>Iwaizumi frowned. "Are you okay?"</p><p>Tooru placed a hand over his heart tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "There is no way that I just saw you smoking. You. I. No. Iwa-chan, those things are killers!"<br/>---<br/>"Iwa-chan, look at this picture! Look at these lungs!"</p><p>"I don't think anyone has ever told me that before."</p><p>"Iwwaa-chaaan! This is what smoking does to your body!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the first coffee

**Author's Note:**

> so basically im just making a bunch of like modern mythological aus that are based off a tumblr post. im gonna make like three if all goes well and they dont have to be read in order or at all but theyre all in the same universe? but what im trying to get at is that theyre standalone fics its ok

Oikawa Tooru was the type of person to work to the best of his ability in any environment. That was just fact. Whether it be making the perfect toss for the ace or putting just the right amount of whipped cream, it was always done with effort and usually resulted in success. 

 

Eventually, seeing Tooru succeed so often got boring, which was why it was _hysterical_ when he screwed up. (Most of the time.)

 

(This time, it definitely was.)

 

The beginning of October, when the population was just getting ready to accept the autumn chill and pumpkin spice lattes along with it.  

 

Matsukawa Issei was very aware of Tooru's slump that morning. To put it as simply as possible, the college athlete was just off-kilter. He stumbled right when he walked in for his shift, even though he'd been working there for over a year and knew about the little step at the door. (You don't just forget about the little step. It kills.)

 

(Especially the newbies, like Kindaichi. If Issei saw that poor kid fall face-first again, he would lose it.)

 

Unfortunately, Tooru didn't exactly meet the same fate as their turnip-head coworker. He stumbled in such a Tooru-way, graceful and smooth. He recovered quickly with a smile.

 

But it didn't stop there. Tooru mixed up an order, handed over an extra dollar in change, and forgot to wipe down a table. 

 

With Takahiro in tears next to him, Issei finally wondered aloud, "What is _up_ with you today?"

 

This sent Hanamaki Takahiro (infamous best friend to Issei) into another fit of snickers. After the tears started to literally soak through Issei's sleeve, he pushed his friend away. 

 

Tooru threw up his hands, exasperated. "I don't know! I've had this headache all morning, and I’m so _tired_.” Tooru glared with his chocolate eyes. "Hey! It's not funny!"

 

_That's true,_ Issei thought, _it's hilarious_. Takahiro must've been thinking the same thing because all of a sudden he said, gasping, "I have to go, this is too much."

 

He retreated to the bathroom, leaving Tooru pouting. 

 

Issei, grinning, wiped away a stray tear and shrugged. "Maybe you just didn't get a good sleep last night. Even your hair is droopy." Tooru's hands shot up to his brown locks. "Go take a break, Oikawa."

 

A whine. "But Mattsun..."

 

Forcefully, Issei took over the register and shooed away his coworker. (Despite how funny the situation was, Issei’s conscience kept him from getting too amused. There could be something seriously wrong with Tooru.) "Go get Hanamaki and tell him to get his lazy—"

 

The bell on the door to King's Coffee chimed, indicating the arrival of a new customer and easily cutting off Issei. After a quick glance around the café, Issei noticed that this would be their only customer at the moment. The place was empty. 

 

The customer approached, obviously new. King's was a place where there were lots of regulars, so after a few years, new faces were rare. 

 

Something felt off. 

 

"Welcome to King's Coffee, what can I get you today?" The question was automatic, almost robotic, but it gave Issei a little time to be suspicious. 

 

A little background: There were two worlds—always have been—but in modern times like these, the second world was ruled fiction. Fantasy. Legend. For beings such as Issei, this was okay. It had always been fairly better if those two worlds stayed separate. 

 

So, in his spare time, Issei did the usual things. He spent most of his time with potions and concoctions, mainly for healing purposes, but wasn't opposed to the magic spell every now and then. Takahiro, on the other hand, specialized in hexes and things of the sort. 

 

(A little tidbit—Takahiro and Issei were truly magical beings. Didn't really go through the trouble of labeling themselves. Witches, warlocks, baristas, no matter.)

 

Still, they took the time to blend in to most of the public, keeping their more supernatural lives on the down low. Many others in their situation did the same. 

 

There was something odd about this customer, that other part of his brain noted. The part of the brain that shouldn't be there when he was in the café. The magically inclined part of his brain.

 

Suddenly, Takahiro was behind him. He must've sensed it too. 

 

And Tooru—

 

Of course. Tooru was openly staring, and Issei had no trouble figuring out why. 

 

The definitely supernatural, potentially dangerous customer was quite handsome, and had thus caught the attention of poor Tooru. 

 

Tooru the mortal. Tooru, completely oblivious to the negative energy radiating off this guy along with the smell of _fire_. 

 

The customer hummed, looking behind them at the menu. Issei took this time to throw an exasperated look at Takahiro. The message might as well have been written across Issei's forehead. _This is going to be trouble._  

 

His voice was deep. "Just a black coffee please."

 

"And the name for the order?" It was the first time Tooru had sounded so calm that whole day. His voice was sweet (too sweet, in Issei's opinion) and lilting slightly at the end of his sentence. Takahiro once told Issei that Tooru's "sweet voice" reminded him of these little nasty candies his grandma used to make. Tooru overheard and didn't speak to either of them for three hours, which was a feat for him. 

 

Issei closed his eyes in quiet exasperation, but not before seeing Takahiro's tongue sticking out. 

 

"Iwaizumi," the customer said gruffly. His facial expression was flat, Issei noticed upon reopening his eyes after his extended blink. It was emotionless, save for the twinge of—was it irritation? Maybe he too thought Tooru's voice was equal to small and bitter pink candies. 

 

Tooru only grinned. Issei had a feeling that this wasn't going to turn out well. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Iwaizumi Hajime was dead inside. 

 

Not really, of course, but that's what it felt like. The college student slumped on the somewhat clean table at the little café. Why was school so difficult? It made him want to abandon his meaningless mortal life and go back to mountains where the spirits of his ancestors were. They'd probably ask him, "Why do you desert your responsibilities, Hajime?" in their deep, rumbling voices. 

 

Simply, he'd reply, "Have you gone to med school?" To which the answer would be, of course not. Hundreds of years ago there were no colleges, and if there were, dragons probably would not attend. 

 

Sighing, Hajime sat up and gathered the energy to open his laptop. He felt like he sighed at least once every five minutes. It had been a rough week. His favorite (and much cheaper) coffee shop had just closed down, making one of his favorite beverages and study places unreachable. He had to take a different route home from university so he could stop by and study at this new place.

 

The back of his mind reminded him that it wasn't really necessary for him to go and study at a coffee shop. But it was so much _nicer_. The warm energy, the strong smell of coffee, the (usually) nice employees. Sure, he didn't have to, but if exams were this draining, he could treat himself a little. 

 

He didn't like this café—King's Coffee—as much as he did the other one. It was mostly because of the three employees he'd encountered so far. The one with dark unruly hair and a lazy look on his face didn't look like someone who would be so on-guard, but he was. That probably had to do with Hajime. But if “Matsukawa” (according to his nametag) was so suspicious, then that meant that he knew what Hajime was. That also meant Matsukawa (and his friend, the one with short hair that almost looked like a natural pink, but not quite) had something weird about them too. 

 

(The unnecessarily attractive one was probably just human. He didn't pick up on any of the tension.)

 

Hajime sighed once more. Being part dragon was really troublesome sometimes. 

 

(His ancestors were dragons. When humans started growing in population and when their favorite sport was to hunt dragons, the dragons had to do something about it. They used what magic ability they had to evolve into humans themselves, to protect the rest of the generations to come. Even though they were no longer dragons on the outside, the definitely were on the inside.)

 

It had its perks, though. If he concentrated enough, Hajime could perform some magic. He also had seemingly endless stamina and strength. 

 

But he also had this constant craving for fire. He knew that because of how he was, things like cigarettes couldn't harm him like normal humans. It was the closest he could get to eating fire. He didn't do that often—it felt great, of course, but his body was still human even with the dragon inside. Eating fire everyday was just a stupid idea. 

 

Those two at the counter sensed something—and Hajime wanted to know how. 

 

"Your coffee," It was the stupidly striking guy. Hajime blinked, accepting the beverage. He was under the impression that they would call his name first and he would go get his coffee. 

 

"Thank you…?" Hajime said. Behind the employee—his name tag read "Oikawa" with some weird hand drawn emoji—Hajime could see the suspicious employees. Both of them were practically falling over the counter because of their effort to lean over and just stare at Hajime. He wasn't sure he'd stick around the café for much longer. 

 

Oikawa flashed a blinding smile; Hajime forgot to smile back. He was so surprised by the sincerity in it. "Come again!"

 

_Not sure I will,_ Hajime thought anyway. 

 

The two nosy guys at the counter visibly relaxed when Oikawa walked away. Despite the distractions and suspicions, Hajime would've just returned to his studies if Oikawa hadn't suddenly released a strangled shriek. 

 

Immediately alert, Hajime's head snapped up so quickly he could've gotten whiplash. He'd looked up just in time to see the handsome barista trip and take a dive right down on the floor, face-first. 

 

The mostly empty coffee shop was dead silent as Hajime and the two other employees just stared in awe at the third employee on the ground. 

 

Three long seconds passed before Matsukawa whistled lowly, and then everything burst into sound. First was the almost-pink-haired employee, who was in hysterics not even a second after his coworker's whistle. The whistle ended right when the laughing started, causing Matsukawa follow suit. Then, to add to the cacophony, the door to the kitchen slammed open and revealed a very concerned looking employee whose hair sort of resembled a turnip. 

 

Upon seeing Oikawa, the frazzled employee squawked in shock and seemed to panic, but his worries were drowned out by the manic cackling of the other two. Hajime watched with wide eyes as the one employee ("Hanamaki-san!" the panicked one had screeched) laughed so hard he dropped. Hajime wasn't sure if he fell or just slid to the floor, but he couldn't tell because the man was no longer on his feet. Hajime could not see him from the other side of the counter. 

 

He glanced back at Oikawa, who seemed to have accepted his fate and just stayed on the ground. 

 

The customer didn't exactly know what to do. He kind of wanted to laugh, because it was certainly funny, but then again he felt like he should help. 

 

(They lost Matsukawa, the employee having slid down the counter as he cackled.)

 

Hajime felt a twinge of pity on the kid, who was now dealing with three fallen coworkers. Sighing ( _again_ ), Hajime set down his coffee. Really, to what lengths would he go to avoid studying?

 

He lifted up a hand, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the guffaws. "Do you need any help?"

 

The employee froze, and briefly looked like he would refuse. Of course, after another glance at the chaos, he saw reason and nodded.

 

Hajime offered a tiny smile. It felt weird, smiling, even though it probably shouldn’t. There was just so much stress.

 

Relieved, the employee smiled back. “Uh, I’m Kindaichi Yuutarou, you can call me Kindaichi.”

 

Hajime nodded. “Iwaizumi. Do you want me to get this one?” Lightly, Hajime nudged Oikawa with his foot.

 

Kindaichi nodded quickly. “I couldn’t help him up, I’m not very strong and he’s quite big. I don’t think he’ll get up on his own.” Quieter, he said, “He’s kind of dramatic...”

 

Quickly, Hajime had to remind himself that snorting at that would be rude. He bent down, addressing the lump on the ground. “Are you okay?”

 

Finally, Oikawa replied. “Mmmrgh,”

 

Hajime’s gaze flattened into one of annoyance. “Okay, you’re getting up now.” Not too gently, he bent down and yanked the lankier man to his feet. Oikawa stumbled, and once Hajime released him, his hands went right to his _hair._

 

The laughter had somewhat quieted down, but the second Oikawa was back on his feet, the two behind the counter started cracking up. Hajime turned, irritated, to see both of them just leaning on the counter with their shoulders shaking.

 

Kindaichi sighed, shaking his head and turning away to go back to the kitchen. Hajime glanced over at the klutz. Oikawa blinked down at him, seeming to have collected himself a bit. “How would you like another coffee, on the house?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. the first encounter(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime, for reasons unknown, went back to King's Coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....this is a mess. BUT THANK YOU GUYS FOR YOUR SWEET COMMENTS! I LOOK FORWARD TO THOSE YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE  
>  also sorry its been a million years but this chapter wasnt working out for me :/  
> hopefully this wont go on too long? i never do really long fics so i hope to tie this up in a few more chapters because i dont know how to write

Tooru was genuinely surprised when he saw the handsome customer again. He didn't want to think back to that day often; his clumsiness had been humiliating. The customer, Iwaizumi, had looked positively _done_ when Tooru had asked him if he wanted free coffee. He'd declined, gathered his things, and left. Tooru vaguely remembered thinking something along the lines of "I hate it when you leave, but I love watching you go". 

 

 So when Tooru walked in for his shift and saw the attractive man stirring his drink at his little table, he had to adjust his glasses to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Iwaizumi was so engrossed in his laptop, Tooru stopped to take a moment and observe. 

 

Firstly, he noticed Iwaizumi's arms. He figured that if he lingered on those too long it would cause problems, so he tore his eyes away. (Let it just be said that Tooru was forever grateful that one, Iwaizumi owned a leather jacket and two, he decided to take it off.)

 

He noticed the way Iwaizumi looked so concentrated. Chances are he was taking classes. 

 

Tooru could've stared for hours, just soaking in information the Iwaizumi unknowingly fed him, but his train of thought was interrupted. 

 

"He's been here for fifteen minutes." Tooru turned at the grumpy tone, eyebrows raised. 

 

Mattsun crossed his arms, mouth twitching ever so slightly. Tooru laughed, smacking his coworker on the shoulder. "Look, Mattsun!" He gestured towards the windows, where light was streaming in and giving the café a warm glow despite the cold outside. "It's a beautifully cold day, lighten up a bit!"

 

Tooru looked up at the slightly taller employee, a scowl written on his tan face. "I just don't trust that guy. There's something weird about him."

 

"He's a customer," Tooru reminded, walking past him and behind the counter. "No one said you had to trust him." He grabbed his apron and slipped the teal strap over his head, gracefully tying a bow in the back. "Your shift is over anyway. Go home."

 

Mattsun frowned, but removed his own apron. "Just stick with Hanamaki, will you?"

 

Tooru rolled his eyes—where was this even coming from? He shooed the man off, and once Mattsun left the building, Tooru adjusted his glasses and got to work. 

 

Iwaizumi left without a sound. Tooru didn't even notice; when he finally had the time to pause and look, he ended up having to wipe down that table because he was gone. 

 

Two days passed before Iwaizumi returned. Matsukawa wasn't the only one who was so irritable about the new customer. Makki was frowning from the second the customer entered to the second he left. This did not stop Tooru. 

 

"What can I get for you today?" Tooru grinned, leaning over the counter. Iwaizumi (his given name was Hajime, Tooru had learned) merely blinked at him, unamused. 

 

"Coffee." The usual—bitter, black coffee with very little sugar. 

 

Tooru hummed, lightly tapping a button on the register. "Are you studying for something?"

 

A sigh escaped Iwaizumi's lips. "Uh, yeah. I've got an exam this week."

 

"Oh, what are you looking to do?" 

 

The customer shrugged a little, eyes trained on the coffee the Tooru slid over to him. "I want to go into sports medicine."

 

Tooru smiled. "Well, I hope you do well, Iwa-chan!"

 

His eyes (really dark green, really pretty) flicked up to Tooru's, mouth open slightly in a mix of shock and irritation. "What?"

 

"I said, I hope you do well."

 

"No, what did you call me?"

 

"Iwa-chan."

 

"Why?"

 

Tooru huffed. "Iwaizumi," he said with air quotes, "is a mouthful, as lovely as it is." He winked. "Nicknames are cute; you needed one."

 

Iwa-chan shook his head, grabbed his coffee with the hand that wasn't wrapped around a newspaper, and left for his usual table. Tooru caught sight of the headline—MORE FREQUENT ACTS OF VIOLENCE ON THE STREET—and he frowned. If Iwa-chan kept reading negative things, he was going to be even grumpier. 

 

Speaking of negativity. Tooru was interrogated after Iwa-chan left the café with two hours of reading and studying under his belt. 

 

Makki's nose was all scrunched up, arms crossed. "You gave him a nickname?"

 

The bespectacled employee frowned. "Are you afraid you're going to get replaced, Makki-chan?"

 

"Not in the slightest."

 

"Then cheer up! What's wrong with making new friends?" Tooru blew his friend a raspberry. Makki pretended to catch the kiss, gave him an unamused smile, and then proceeded to "drop" the kiss on the ground and step on it. 

 

Tooru squawked indignantly, trying to throw himself on his friend. "That's not nice!"

 

Behind the two, Kindaichi sighed and took over the register. 

 

 

 

Hajime didn't really know what kept him coming to King's Café. The employees were a bunch of weirdos, and one in particular just wouldn't leave him alone. 

 

It had been three weeks since his first visit. Hajime wasn't even drinking coffee. It was when Oikawa sat down in front of him, on lunch break, did Hajime realize that they were kind of friends. 

 

Confused, Hajime squinted down at the table as if it would give him answers. 

 

How did this even happen? He knew too much about Oikawa already. (His name was Oikawa Tooru, and he was only about a month younger than Hajime, making him 24. He was the Assistant Manager of King's, but was also trying to get a couple degrees. "I've always had a way with people," the man had shrugged, sipping on coffee. "If I can go to school to learn how to peek into people's brains even more than usual, then why not? If I can make money off of talking to people, why not?")

 

He actually had a pretty rotten personality despite his almost flawless appearance. Hajime hated how attractive he was, even with his rude disposition. 

 

Still, with Hajime's lack of placidity, he found himself wanting to punch his acquaintance quite often in that beautiful face.

 

"So, Iwa-chan, I have a question."

 

Hajime's mouth twitched at the nickname, but he looked up anyway. 

 

"Do you know Makki and Mattsun from anywhere?"

 

Over the course of the three weeks, Hajime had come to find that the suspicious coworkers had full names. The one that Hajime had only known as Matsukawa was named Matsukawa Issei, also known as "Mattsun" to Oikawa. The one with the mysterious hair color was Hanamaki Takahiro, known to Oikawa as Makki. He literally had to have a nickname for everyone. 

 

The three didn't show it publicly, but Hajime could just tell that they were very close. The way his friend's names rolled off Oikawa's tongue so easily suggested that they'd been friends for years and were probably on first-name basis. 

 

Hajime frowned at the question. "No, I'm afraid I don't. Why?"

 

Tooru shrugged. "They really don't like you."

 

Hajime's frown deepened at his company's bluntness, but he said nothing. The feeling was mutual, after all. Oikawa continued. "I don't know. They're usually really cool, especially with strangers, but they seemed really wary with you. You appear to feel the same." 

 

"I _am_ a bit wary," Hajime admitted. He picked his next words carefully. "They...just gave me a bad feeling."

 

"That's what they said. Feel free to work it out though—they're good guys." Oikawa wasn't looking at Hajime anymore; in fact, it looked like he was looking at absolutely nothing but space. It was kind of weird, the suggestion that Hajime “work it out” with two people he’d technically never properly met.

 

"I'm sure." At Hajime's response, Oikawa seemed to snap out of his trance. He smiled, a bright, megawatt smile that was too endearing for Hajime to be totally comfortable. 

 

"Oh, Iwaizumi!"

 

Both Hajime and Oikawa looked up to see none other than Kuroo Tetsurou in the little coffee shop. Baffled, Hajime raised a hand in acknowledgement. 

 

The taller man with a mess of black hair quickly made his way over to their table. He looked like a human representation of what Saturday was. (Except for the fact it was Thursday.) He wore a huge Nekoma (his high school) sweatshirt and sweat pants. His hair was in a million different directions; that much wasn’t new. The human mess raised a hand in apology. "Sorry for interrupting your date."

 

Hajime opened his mouth to insist that this was _not_ a date, this was Oikawa's lunch break, but Oikawa gave him no time. "It's okay," he grinned, sipping his drink. Hajime frowned when he noticed Oikawa hadn't denied anything. 

 

Kuroo didn't seem to notice or care. "I was going to call you, but when I walked past, I saw you through the window so I just thought I could beg you in person. I have a better chance that way."

 

Hajime closed his eyes, already knowing what he would ask. "Kuroo, I have to _sleep_ —"

 

"Please? C'mon, Kenma just got to town and I need someone to cover for me," Kuroo pressed his hands together hopefully. 

 

Hajime sighed—he was getting soft. "Tell Kenma I said hello."

 

Hands still pressed together, Kuroo closed his eyes and whispered, " _Yessss_."

 

Oikawa kept a smile on his face, but his eyes showed his confusion. Hajime gestured to his friend with a frown. "This is Kuroo. He's the owner of the bar I work at, and he's lazy."

 

Kuroo huffed, crossing his arms and muttering something under his breath. 

 

"Kuroo, this is Oikawa, my..." Hajime paused, mind starting to reach for an appropriate term. Oikawa took Hajime's hesitation and used it to offer a wave at Kuroo. 

 

"We're friends." he grinned. 

 

Hajime blinked, his mind returning to those thoughts he’d had when he was staring at the table for answers. It felt odd to be suddenly friends with someone. He felt like the only friends he had he'd known for years. He could barely remember the process of becoming friends with Kuroo; his mind was mostly focused on that they were friends now, and so he had to make sure the bartender did nothing stupid. These days, he was too busy for making friends. He’d just survived with the friends ( _also see: bad decisions_ ) he had already.  

 

Kuroo must have been thinking the same thing, because his smirk just kept growing wider. "Well, I'm glad Iwaizumi here finally took the time to meet new people." Kuroo looked down at his phone, which he'd just pulled out of his pocket. "I have to go. You two have fun," Kuroo turned and started to jog out the door, but not before shouting another thanks to Hajime. 

 

The thanks did nothing for the poor student. Hajime groaned, putting his face in his hands. "I'm going to go home and take a nap."

 

Oikawa laughed, a light, fluttering sound. "My break is about over, anyway."

 

"Get to work; you're almost as lazy as Kuroo."

 

"Rude!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hajime suppressed a sigh. He did not have the patience to be walking this late in the day, especially when it got dark so early. He thought back to a newspaper he'd read not too long ago about the rising crime on the streets. He was probably going to get mugged, and it was all Kuroo’s fault for never planning ahead. (Although, truthfully, Hajime wasn’t concerned in the slightest. What would a mugger do besides be annoying? Hajime was part _dragon_. He could handle an amateur who probably just wanted to go buy some more drugs.)

 

The streetlight next to him flickered, and the wind blew leaves into his path. He made sure to pull his cigarette pack out of his pocket. It was chilly, and Hajime hated the cold, so he picked up his pace.

 

But he came to a complete stop when he heard a branch snap.

 

 _I swear to all of my fire-breathing ancestors, if this is some low-life criminal..._ Hajime turned, scowling with the cigarette between his lips, but what he saw was not some hooded kid with a knife.

 

Hajime suppressed a sigh. He did not have the patience for Matsukawa Issei, suspicious employee number one, right now. (All Kuroo’s fault.)

 

His arms were crossed, his lips pulled downward with a frown. "Iwaizumi, is it?"

 

Without breaking eye contact, Hajime fished in his coat pocket for his lighter. "And you're Matsukawa, correct?"

 

The off-duty cashier held up something in the air. It glinted silver, and Hajime recognized it as the aforementioned lighter. He didn't leave it at the café, did he?

 

One look at Matsukawa's face told him, no, he didn't leave it behind. "I think we're both well aware by now that we aren't exactly normal," the curly haired man said, tossing the lighter. Hajime caught it with a frown. "And the only reason I'm even bothering with you is because you seem dangerous. What are you?"

 

Hajime lit the cigarette. "Well, what are you?"

 

Matsukawa's caterpillar-eyebrows drew together. "A magic user who likes the human race and doesn't mind blending in with them."

 

Hajime didn't bother to turn his head away when he blew out the smoke with an exhale. His insides felt like they lit up, craving the burn. He felt that Matsukawa was only being honest because he expected honesty in return. Hajime didn't have to be truthful, or answer at all. He could just walk away and stop coming to the café altogether. It would be much easier. 

_Feel free to work it out though—they're good guys._

_I'm getting soft,_ Hajime thought bitterly as he took another drag. "I have dragon blood," Matsukawa visibly stiffened, "but I like staying on the down-low with humans just as much as you do. I'm studying sports medicine and I work at a bar with a few friends. I have no reason to want to endanger anybody."

 

Despite Hajime’s completely reassuring words, Matsukawa remained in his guarded stance. "So what business do you have with Oikawa?"

 

 _Oikawa_. "No business. We just got to know each other."

 

The other didn't reply. Hajime exhaled through his nose, smoke billowing in front of his face. He was just about to continue his walk to his job (he _had_ to be late by now) when his company spoke one last time. 

 

"You seem okay for now. But Oikawa's important to us; we have our eyes on you." Then, quieter, "Let's go, Hiro."

 

Hajime turned to see someone materialize from thin air. It was the second troublesome employee, Hanamaki Takahiro. He must've been there the whole time in case something went wrong. 

 

The two turned and walked away, bumping shoulders for a total of four seconds before they vanished into thin air. 

 

Hajime shook his head before continuing his walk, cigarette between his lips. The encounter had been fairly brief, but plenty random, and Hajime really just wanted to go home.

 

He ditched the cigarette on the way. When he finally reached the bar, seven minutes off, he was met with his rooster-haired friend. 

 

"You're late."

 

Hajime wrinkled his nose, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the hook behind the counter. "I could've gotten mugged."

 

Kuroo scoffed. "As if. Who in their right minds would take the time to mug the big buff guy walking down the street? Not to mention you're a freaking _dragon_."

 

The sour look didn't leave Hajime's face. "Whatever, I'm sure Kenma's happy without you there."

 

"All I hear coming out of your mouth are lies," Kuroo said indignantly, grabbing his own coat. 

 

Hajime rolled his eyes. "Go away. I'm sure Kenma just _cannot_ _wait_ for your company."

 

"Lies!" Kuroo sang, maneuvering his way around the counter and to the door. "See you, Bo!"

 

Wiping down a table, the owlish employee shot up with a salute and a wink. "Later, Tetsu!"

 

Hajime sighed. Bokuto Koutarou finished his task and joined Hajime behind the counter, playing absentmindedly with the rag he was using. "What's up, Iwaizumi?"

 

Bokuto was always a sight that woke Hajime up, even after knowing him for years. He had such a refreshing energy and appearance, and the weirdest hair. It was colored white and streaked with black (or maybe it was the other way around—the man was like a zebra) and he had it spiked up, resembling a horned owl. He had golden eyes that were bright when he was excited, and despite his moods, he was almost _always_ excited.

 

Hajime sighed. "Nothing much. I got confronted by two magic users on the way here."

 

The bell above the door chimed, so Bokuto lowered his voice as he responded (a feat; Bokuto was the loudest person Hajime knew). "What for?"

 

"They're the two from the café I frequent. Apparently they were suspicious of my intentions. They rightly assumed I was dangerous."

 

Bokuto snorted, grabbing a different rag to dry the glasses. "It's not hard to assume you're dangerous," 

 

Hajime's reply was cut off by the customer. Bokuto handled the drink, Hajime handled the money. They worked swiftly so they could continue their conversation in hushed tones.

 

“I don’t know. It’s annoying, but they should be okay with me now.”

 

Bokuto gave him a look. “Wait, you’re still going to go to the café?” A boisterous laugh. “Why bother? You’re going through an awful lot of trouble for coffee.”

 

Hajime didn’t reply. The owl was right. The bell above the door to the bar chimed, signaling the appearance of a new customer.

 

“Is there a reason why?” Hajime opened his mouth to convey his strong feelings of “I don’t know”, but Bokuto’s loud hoot prevented him from getting a word out. “Is it a person? Did Iwaizumi make a friend?”

 

Hajime felt his face heat up—and not in the way he usually appreciated. “Not really,” he tried to mutter, but Bokuto wouldn’t listen.

 

“I bet you like ‘em! Ohoho, is it a guy? What are they?” Bokuto’s eyes were a fiery golden, telling Hajime that if he was this excited, there was no way he could escape this. The customer was getting impatient.

 

“It’s a guy. He’s a human.”

 

“ _Really?_ ” Bokuto got unnecessarily close to Hajime, who in turn leaned back a bit. The customer waited.

  
“Why do you sound surprised? You’re a human too,” Hajime grumbled, eyes trained on the scowling customer.

 

Bokuto, relentless, snatched a clean shot glass. “I know, but it’s weird that you even bothered meeting someone, let alone a regular human!” Bokuto took the customer’s order, and luckily the customer hadn’t cared enough to listen to what they had been saying.

 

Hajime frowned. He hadn’t had much say in the matter, but he could’ve stopped the acquaintance if he’d wanted. Then that’s all Oikawa would be—an acquaintance.

 

He was sort of glad he’d sat back and let it happen. The customer walked away, grumbling.

 

“...He’s a good guy, somewhere deep down in there. Maybe.”

 

“Iwaizumi, is it impossible for you to be nice?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> konohano.tumblr.com
> 
> weird spacing? always.

**Author's Note:**

> konohano.tumblr.com
> 
> im p sure the spacing is weird but hopefully itll be better next time


End file.
